Decisions, Decisions
by CrystallicSky
Summary: Good help is hard to find. CHACK, ONESHOT


**Decisions, Decisions**

**By: CrystallicSky**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Bad language, sexual implications, homosexuality, etc.**

**-.-.-.-.-.-  
**

The strength of the Heylin side was waning and Chase Young was less than enthused.

Essentially, evil had three members, three well-established and accomplished proprietors of wickedness: Hannibal Bean, Wuya, and Chase himself. In essence and deed, they were enough to perpetuate the Heylin, keeping it alive and well to oppose the forces of good, but as of late, there had developed…an imbalance.

In true and full-fledged masters, the Xiaolin was equal to Heylin. Dojo, Fung, and Guan provided the foil to Bean, Wuya, and Chase, and if it were only the six of them, they would be evenly matched.

However, it was _not_ just the six of them and both sides had several novices vying for master-status.

It was in these novices that the scales became unfairly tipped and at first glance, it seemed that evil should benefit from the imbalance. After all, the Xiaolin had a mere four novices to the Heylin's baker's dozen (and more).

In effect, though, this advantage was nonexistent.

Heylin had the numbers, yes, but in the face of the _quality_ of the Xiaolin's inexperienced, it meant next to nothing. The apprentice monks were loyal and focused in a way that the would-be Heylin were not. They knew precisely what their goal was and were happy to obey their master's teachings in order to obtain it; proving an immeasurably useful tool for the side of good.

And what did evil have available to it? Chase scoffed. Greedy and ignorant scatterbrains, every last one willing to destroy each other if in their best interests rather than acknowledging the fact that they were on the same 'team' and should squabble with the monks before squabbling with themselves.

It was sad, really; monumentally disappointing that _this_ was what Chase had to choose from.

And yet, choose he would because _someone_ had to.

The strong need for a Heylin apprentice had occurred to the dragonlord recently. The Xiaolin were dangerously close to possessing four more masters, and with the Heylin completely stagnant in that area, evil was just as dangerously close to being overpowered.

Unacceptable.

_Someone_ had to pass on the teachings of true evil in the interest of maintaining dominance and with Bean having never taken an apprentice after Chase and Wuya too paranoid of having her power usurped should she teach anyone _any_ of her ways…

Well, the duty of picking out the least useless of the flock of headless chickens that wished to be Heylin and turning him or her into a master fell to Chase.

The task was not easy-going.

Initially, Chase had started out canvassing all those around him currently involved in evil doings that were not already, by his standards, a master. That large number of potential apprentices had desperately needed to be cut, and so his first decision was to establish an age-limit.

Full-grown adults were simply out of the question. For one, an adult would be grossly averse to taking orders from Chase, a very young-looking man. It would infuriate them to have to listen to an 'inferior' and likewise frustrate Chase, who would demand his every will be done unquestioningly as a superior. Then, of course, there was the fact of the matter that adults tended to be stuck in their ways and unable to truly learn anything new. It would take _drastic_ reprogramming for a grown man to unlearn everything he knew and relearn it with Chase as his teacher.

And so, thankfully, with the age-clause in place, the list had shortened considerably, leaving only a handful of relatively young people to decide upon.

"Are you ready to begin, Master?"

Chase glanced to his right side where the ever-faithful Diol stood. The jaguar warrior turned actual jaguar had been allowed his human form to make the task of aiding his overlord easier, and he appeared quietly grateful for the opportunity.

"Yes," he eventually sighed in response, "let's get this over with."

The desk before the two men was littered with papers and photographs that would serve as résumés for the unknowing candidates. Chase's gloved hand reached out and pulled the first thing he touched closer, revealing it to be an image of a lovely girl with a star in her curly hair and seductive smile on her lips.

"Dyris," he identified. "Mermaid, true age unknown, blond hair, green eyes. What do you think?"

"You first, Master," Diol insisted.

Chase hmmed in consideration. "She could be useful," he admitted. "She seems to be quite apt at manipulation using sex appeal and she's ruthless and sinister already. Having her by my side could come in handy if I ever need an enemy seduced or perhaps if I myself wish to be seduced."

"I say no."

"No?" the dragonlord echoed. "And why not?"

"She desires to drown the Earth, Master," Diol said frankly. "Besides that, she's a high-maintenance female with her own agenda and would be unlikely to submit to your rule. May I also remind you that she's a mermaid. Nothing sexual can come of her unless she sprouts legs and even if she did, you would have to have sex with her in water, lest she become a gigantic and ugly amphibian and completely kill the mood."

Chase laughed in response. "Fair enough," he agreed. "Dyris is no great loss to me." With that, the picture was tossed aside into a nearby refuse bin and another picked up.

The face in this picture was more familiar and Chase found a grin quirking his lips at the sight of the black youth. "Jermaine Kemp," he said, briefly looking over the sheet of information he had. "Human, seventeen, born to Cici Jackson and James Kemp in New York City. Black hair, brown eyes, 6'0", 145 pounds. No known medical history, and an honor roll athlete."

"Pardon me for speaking so freely, Master," Diol butted in, "but that ship has very much sailed."

"Oh?" Chase inquired, quirking an eyebrow.

"You deceived him," the dusky-skinned man beside him reminded. "You lied to him and made him fight against his 'friends' without knowing who or what you really are. I can see why you would be excited to have him as an apprentice: he has already learned much from you and is an excellent fighter."

"But, he will not willingly betray the monks nor will he ever trust me again due to what's occurred between us," Chase finished.

Diol grinned. "Exactly."

"Yes, yes, I know," the jaguar's master sighed. "It really is a pity, though. He had the potential to be great before he threw his lot in with the Xiaolin."

Again, the picture and the information sheet were discarded, another set gathered just as quickly.

A bout of cruel laughter suddenly erupted from both Chase and Diol, and the photograph of the chubby blond girl in biker attire was tossed away without even a cursory once-over.

It was unnecessary: Chase had no want of a Bailey amongst the Heylin, no matter how different this one was from her Xiaolin brother.

Then, the laughter stopped, replaced by a sigh and an eyeroll on Chase's part as he caught sight of the next candidate: a young man in a red-and-white striped sweater, face painted black and white.

"Le Mime," he noted dully. "Must we consider him?"

"Yes, Master," Diol confirmed. "We're trying to find an apprentice for you to train; not exactly the sort of thing we should be cutting corners on."

Golden eyes rolled again. "Fine. Le Mime, true name unknown, true age unknown. Black hair, black eyes, and good sweet gods, I could care less about any of this."

"Don't dismiss him so readily," the jaguar advised. "His abilities could be quite useful to you."

"……" Chase leveled a deadpan stare at his warrior. "You don't mean to suggest I accept him, do you?"

"Goodness, no," Diol replied. "He's a freakish outcast that would likely damage your reputation beyond repair, not to mention how insanely difficult it would be to mentor him if he refuses to speak. I merely meant that you should weigh his ability to bring his miming into reality before ruling him out entirely."

Chase snorted. "Consider it weighed; very much not worth it."

The trash can beside the desk was filled just a bit higher and quite suddenly, Chase came to the realization that there were only two candidates left for him to choose from.

"Fuck."

Curious as to the source of his master's foul language, Diol peered over Chase's shoulder only for his yellow eyes to brighten in interest.

"Well," he grinned broadly, "if this doesn't look _familiar."_

Upon the desk, amidst various sheets of background information were two photographs: one of a tan, blond female in a black leather catsuit and one of a pale redhead with a pair of goggles perched atop his hairline.

_"Too_ familiar for my liking," Chase sneered, turning away from what were, as far as he was concerned, _both_ terrible options.

"Oh, come on, now, Master," Diol coaxed teasingly, "just because everything went to hell the last time you tried to make these youths your apprentice shouldn't sour you to a second attempt!"

Chase merely grunted in response, obviously quite soured.

His jaguar minion rolled his eyes and sat himself upon the edge of the desk. "Here," he flatly offered, "I'll start. Ashley Rockow, AKA, Katnappé. Eighteen, only daughter of Sara Mosi and Jonathon Rockow in Paris, France; later raised in the United States. Blond hair, blue eyes, 5'6", 135 pounds, but if asked, she'll swear she's 125."

At that, Chase snorted before allowing his warrior to continue reading.

"She's been to the hospital a few times for stitches; mostly in her younger years and mostly for cat scratches. More recently, she's been in and out of plastic surgery procedures and now has a tail and cat-ears physically attached. It seems she still draws the whiskers on, though."

Diol watched as his master's nose wrinkled at the thought of the plastic surgery, surely imagining something ugly. "It's really not that bad," he informed, rifling through several papers before plucking out and handing over a photograph. "This one's more recent than the one we've got of her at thirteen."

Chase obligingly took the picture and inspected Ashley's appearance. No, he conceded to himself, it really wasn't all that bad. The tail and ears were more negligible accessories than anything else; especially in comparison to how the rest of her had matured.

Katnappé was still thin, as he'd remembered her, but definitely more curvy than she had been as a girl. Her figure had filled itself out nicely with good sized breasts and wide hips, accentuating her waist and giving her the hourglass appearance many women starved themselves for. Her face was lovely in a delicately feminine way, and yet her eyes held an enticing mischief that contrasted it directly.

All in all, Ashley had grown up to be a buxom young lady, one whom Chase would not mind sharing a bed with.

"On the pros side," Diol smoothly continued, "she's a ruthless fighter. She knows what she wants and she knows how to get it, damn the expense and people stepped on. On the cons side, however," he warned, "she's a ruthless fighter. If you have something she wants, she won't hesitate to take it from you, so, if she becomes your apprentice, you'll have to be on your guard until you train that nonsense out of her."

Chase nodded. "Of course," he agreed. "After the _last_ time I promised to teach her, I shall have to be more cautious."

Diol frowned as the dragonlord made to stand. "We aren't done," he reminded. "You haven't even heard about Jack, yet."

"What is there to hear?" Chase dubiously wondered.

Idly flipping through the information that'd been gathered for this particular candidate, the jaguar whistled. "You'd be surprised," he said simply.

Chase settled back into his chair. "Go on," he ordered of his minion, "surprise me."

Diol cleared his throat. "Jack Spicer, nineteen--"

And already, Chase was surprised.

"Nineteen?" he queried. "How?"

The dragonlord did not make it a point to know absolutely everything about the youth who had years ago claimed to be his number one fan, but he _was_ quite certain of the fact that Spicer and Katnappé had been born in the same year. It did not make sense that they came into existence in the same year, both of their birthdays for this particular year already having passed, and yet _Spicer_ was older.

"It's a funny story," Diol began. "You see, apparently, a few years back, Spicer was in possession of the Sands of Time. In the middle of a battle with the monks for it, he used it to take a year-long vacation before returning to the matter at hand. In any case, his body still aged that year, and so he is physically nineteen despite the fact that he was only born eighteen years ago."

Despite himself, Chase laughed at the idea of Jack abusing his control of time in order to take a vacation, in the midst of a _fight_ no less. Of course, he would never admit his envy at never having thought to do as much himself. Certainly, he could use a monk-free century or so in Tahiti.

Diol chuckled with him for a moment before returning his attention to the piece of paper he held in his hands. "Son of Sylvia Vivienne and Martin Spicer, heir to the massive fortune thereof. Born in the United States and raised a little bit of everywhere. Albinistic since birth; red hair, red eyes and skin like a ghost, but I'm sure you already knew that; kinda hard to miss. Currently weighs 195 pounds and stands at 7'1"."

If Chase had been drinking something, he surely would've choked on it. Last he had seen Spicer, the little twerp had to look up an inch or so to make eye-contact and now he was nearly a foot _taller?_ When had _that_ happened?!

Oblivious to his master's astonishment at the fact, the jaguar continued reading. "Apparently, he was in the hospital a lot as a kid. Severe sunburns, mostly, but there's no shortage of bumps, scratches, and broken bones the likes of which not even _Spicer_ could do himself. If I had to guess, I would say bullying was involved. It would certainly explain why he dropped out of school when he was six."

Chase blinked. "He did _what?_"

"Yes," Diol confirmed, "he's an elementary school dropout. Still managed to earn a few master's degrees afterwards, though. Apparently, the kid was a certified professor while his peers were struggling with sixth-grade math. He never applied for a teaching job, though, which is a damn shame. I'd have loved to see a ten-year-old berating young adults for not bringing in their homework, wouldn't you, Master?"

"It certainly would've been interesting," the warlord admitted. "Is there anything else I should know about Spicer?"

"Yes, but I can sum it up," Diol smirked, showing off his fangs. "He speaks twelve languages fluently, has learned how to cook, clean, and manage a household in his parents' absence from his life, started his own multitrillion dollar business a year ago, and has recently completed a self-defense course. He still can't attack worth a damn, but if someone attacks _him,_ he's capable of fending them off. A friendly warning in case you choose him as your apprentice."

"Spicer's deeds as of late are impressive," Chase slowly admitted, "but why, pray tell, might I want him as my apprentice when Katnappé will surely be more than willing?"

The jaguar's grin broadened. "Because it's not just his skills that are impressive, Master," he said.

Chase was handed another photograph with the repeated explanation of, "More recent than thirteen."

And _there_ was the incentive; the reason why he should not just rule Spicer out in favor of Ashley because she was more beautiful and better for a roll in the hay.

Because in this photo, Jack was positively gorgeous.

His body, long and lean like a model's, was hugged pleasantly by a clearly expensive black suit. Even through the picture, Chase could see that the young man's stride was a thing of power and grace; no more constant hint that he was about to trip over his own feet like in the past.

Jack had obviously been photographed by some stranger on the street because he did not look towards the lens and seemed entirely unbothered by it, instead more focused on the cellular phone in his long, white fingers that held the device to his ear. Clearly, Spicer was being bored by whomever he spoke with and his features expressed disinterest and scorn at best, but it was not the expression Chase was focused on.

It was the actual face that drew him in, for it seemed that Jack had finally grown into his features. His eyes that'd once sickeningly reminded Chase of a sweet and innocent little doe had hardened with the telltale calm of maturity, now seeming much more proportional in regards to everything else. The loss of whatever baby fat had remained with him through prepubescence had gone, revealing a straight and elegant nose as well as high cheekbones and a sharper jaw line.

His face and body thrown in with the napalm red of his hair and eyes and the pristine whiteness of his skin, Jack Spicer made for a perfectly lovely display of mortal masculinity.

Katnappé had some serious competition in the field of aesthetics.

Diol saw the look on his master's face, one he had seen several times before. It unquestionably meant, 'I am horny.'

"He had quite the crush on you when he was younger," the warrior said casually. "He'd have thrown himself to starving wolves for you, I'd bet."

Chase continued to inspect the photograph, a barely-there noise the only thing indicating that he'd even heard Diol speak.

"Ashley is beautiful, but I doubt she could ever be that…devoted. She's too concerned with herself."

The warlord was silent for a moment before putting the picture aside and standing from the desk.

"I'll be back later," Chase informed his minion as he left the study. "I must collect myself an apprentice."

Diol felt the man's presence disappearing from the palace, and with it, his ability to retain a human shape. Back in his feline form, the jaguar smiled a jagged smile and prowled off to occupy himself with other duties.

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

Within the confines of his home-office, Jack Spicer sighed at the sight of possibly the sixteenth e-mail in his inbox that day from the exact same person.

Anthony Miller, he was certain, was some spectacular brand of idiot and it'd definitely been a mistake to leave him in charge.

Jack's self-founded company, Spicer Tech was flourishing. The market for energy-efficient technology was expanding and the mechanical genius had what was essentially a monopoly on it.

Why wouldn't he? After all, he'd been building feats of engineering since before he'd hit puberty and now that he had gone public with some of his creations, the entire world knew just what a mechanical mastermind he was.

The stupider ones among the public were excited to use products that cost them less on their electricity bill and glad that environmentalists could no longer bitch at them about destroying the planet because they bought from Spicer Tech.

The smarter ones were more excited about the severe drop in pollution levels and fossil fuel usage and were glad that their everyday lives would no longer encroach upon earth's resources so much.

The even smarter ones than that were marveling at the intricacies of Jack's machines, particularly the 'robot butler' he'd recently released on the market. Really, it was just a Jackbot; the design and programming of which he had come up with when he was eleven, almost twelve; and yet, scientists were hailing it as a marvel of robotics, the pinnacle of form and function and _cognizance!_

Really, these people would be shitting their pants in excitement if they were to see how he had improved his own robots for personal use. Forty times more durable now that their frames were constructed of tungsten, twenty times more efficient with all the bugs worked out of their systems, and a sleek, sexy design in hematite casing with shiny, obsidian accentuation.

Of course, that was to say nothing of their increased firepower; the various arrays of lasers and guns and sharp, pointy implements they possessed with which to cause pain.

_These_ robots were nothing like their flimsy predecessors that could literally be kicked apart by super-powered teenagers.

It was a robot such as this that silently floated up to its master, waiting to be addressed.

"Yes, JB-AlphaSix?" Jack patiently inquired, turning from his laptop.

"Paparazzi have been spotted on the front lawn, Master Spicer," the machine informed him in a monotonous baritone. "Shall normal protocol be enforced?"

"You mean shoot at them until they leave?" the young man wondered. "Yes, enforce that."

"Yes, Master Spicer," JB-AlphaSix bowed before hovering off and phasing through the nearest wall.

That, too, was a good feature, Jack thought to himself, quite glad he'd added it.

Again, he sighed as he looked back at the latest e-mail from Miller, complaining about how he needed help and couldn't handle everything by himself.

Firmly, he clicked reply and typed his response.

_Anthony,_ he began, _you are incompetent. I built Spicer Tech from the ground up and make $900,000 a year. I singlehandedly brought my company to where it is today and could do everything you're complaining about in my sleep. The only reason I even hired you as VP in the first place was so that I could take a day off and not everything would fall apart._

_I see now that you are completely useless in that respect._

_Don't come back to work tomorrow, Anthony. In fact, don't bother coming back at all. You are a complete and utter failure and allow me to save you a lifetime of pain and suffering by advising you stop trying now. You cannot now nor ever be trusted with anything of importance._

_Because of you, I now have to sacrifice possibly the only day off I may get to have from now until doomsday just so that I can come back in and clean up your mess._

_In case I haven't made myself perfectly clear, I'll be there in about an hour to fix everything you've so cluelessly fucked up and to hand you an official pink slip because you are most definitely fired._

_Struggling to Determine How Something Like You Was Ever Declared a Homosapien,_

_Jack Spicer_

With a frustrated air of finality, Jack clicked 'Send' and stood from his desk to get ready to leave and go back to work.

Intrigued, Chase watched from the shadows of the room as the beautifully mature and wonderfully competent Jack practically stalked away.

Spicer had undergone quite a radical transformation. While Katnappé was still up to the same tricks she had always been up to, Jack had _grown up._ How _comfortable_ he was with violence, now, how cutting with his words!

How deliciously perfect.

An opportunity such as this was not one to be passed up.

True to form, it was a mere hour later that Jack walked into the Spicer Tech building, back straight and his head held high. Various underlings scattered at the sight of him and others practically kowtowed.

Rumors spread quickly amongst office people and they _knew_ why their boss had come back to work on his day off.

Rapid fire, Jack took care of business. Cool, calm, and as mechanical as his beloved creations, he found Miller and gave him a verbal lashing, calling him mentally deficient in nearly a hundred ways before firing him again in person.

The Spicer Tech employees would be terrified of Spicer for weeks as they recalled the sight of the forty-five-year-old former vice president fleeing the building on the verge of tears.

Immediately afterwards, Jack went about setting everything else straight. Memos were sent, misunderstandings cleared up, and what went where was explained to various people repeatedly until they understood.

This done, Jack leaned back in the chair of his office and breathed deeply, his eyes falling shut as he briefly relaxed. He was not done, yet: now that he had given up all hope of a truly relaxing day at home, he had several people to call and inform that he would _not_ be missing that meeting after all, but for now, he had a blissfully silent moment all to himself.

"How magnificent you have become."

Jack flinched; not wildly, not as he would have in his childhood days, but enough that the chair creaked upright and his eyes opened quickly. His muscles were tense and one hand had slipped beneath his desk to grip the handle of the gun resting in the holster permanently bolted to the desk's underside.

Chase let the corners of his mouth curl as he stepped out of the shadows of Spicer's office. "Good. You took fright, but you controlled it easily enough. Perhaps this will not be so arduous a task as I feared it might be."

Jack frowned and allowed his hand to fall from the gun. It was useless: even _if_ he could draw it quick enough, it would do nothing against the current intruder of his inner sanctum.

"Chase," he calmly greeted. "What are you doing here?"

"Not going to offer me a seat? How churlish." He was goading the young man on purpose, testing him. There was still time to turn and leave if Spicer offered proof of inadequacy.

Instead, Jack smirked at him the tiniest bit and gestured to the other side of the desk in a "take your seat" motion even as he called out, "JB-AlphaZulu, bring Master Young a comfortable chair."

A robot whirred to life from its silent hibernation in a corner. A thickly cushioned guest chair, one of several that lined a bank of windows overlooking the western horizon, was carried over to the space Jack had gestured to. With suitable aplomb, Chase parked his fanny in the chair and crossed one leg over the other at the knee.

"Will there be anything else, sirs?" the robot inquired.

"Refreshments?" Jack asked, lifting his eyebrows at Chase curiously.

"Tea, the best you have," Chase replied.

The robot bowed and hurried away to fulfill its task.

With the metal interloper gone, Chase met Spicer's gaze squarely. He was silent for several moments, taking in the aura of maturity and youthful power in the newly broad-shouldered man seated across from him.

"You have changed, Spicer," he remarked.

"Yes, us mortals tend to do that," Jack quipped, idly twirling a pen around his fingers. The long digits were practically acrobatic in their movements and the black writing implement seemed to dance around those pretty, graceful fingers. "If we all stayed the same like you do, we'd have multiplied out of control and exhausted our food supply in a matter of years; gone extinct _centuries_ ago."

"And then where would we all be?" Chase asked rhetorically. His query was met by a sarcastic grin from Spicer and he smirked back.

"As to why I am here," he said, drawing the moment out some, "I have noticed the dreadful lack of upcoming Heylin masters in equal response to the rise of Xiaolin masters. The pickings are slim on our side of things and two out of three of the masters are not suitable teachers. That leaves me to take an apprentice, which I have decided to do."

"Congratulations," Jack said, "I wish you well. As you've probably seen from the fiasco that turned my wonderful day off into a day of cleaning up after an idiot, good help is monumentally hard to find."

Chase lifted an eyebrow. "I have witnessed your carnage since you sent that first e-mail. You are not obtuse - not anymore. Surely you know why I'm here?"

Jack lay down the pen and folded his hands on the desk. "I have a hunch," he admitted, "but I'm hoping I'm wrong. Confirm it for me: why are you here?"

The Dragon-lord of the Heylin Side stared with displeased intent at the young man sitting across from him. "You _hope_ you are wrong? Even if my answer is that I am here to acquire _you_ as my apprentice?"

"Yes, because if I were wrong, it would save me the trouble of having to tell you no thanks."

Chase scowled, but was interrupted by the arrival of the Jackbot attendant. He was served exceptional tea; fragrant, perfectly steeped, delicious with a slight taste of honey and jasmine. Jack was served coffee; rich, dark roast, chickory from the smell. The robot was thanked and dismissed, and it took itself back to its post in a corner and returned to hibernation.

After a sip of the delicious tea, Chase said coldly, "Enlighten me as to why you are telling me 'no'. Five years ago, I'd barely have gotten the offer out of my mouth before you were doing something indecent to my leg."

"Five years ago," Jack emphasized, "I would have. Five years ago, I was also a ditzy klutz who'd be lucky to get out of bed in the morning without bruising himself. Now, I'm the CEO of a multimillion dollar corporation who could probably, after today's events, call any person I want in here and have them suck my dick while we have this meeting." He raised his mug of coffee to his lips and swallowed before settling his drink back on the desk. "Surely, a smart guy like you can acknowledge that things have changed since five years ago."

"There's no need to be vulgar," Chase said, though his throat had gone a little dry at the thought of Jack doing such a thing. Those brilliant red eyes half-closed, keeping him in sight while Spicer luxuriated in the sensation of lips and tongue on his erection... it was a beautiful image, if not appropriate for this meeting-turned-negotiation.

"As for change, yes, I can see it has. What I cannot see is why you would throw away this excellent opportunity."

"Because I'm not so certain that it is," Jack coolly replied. "Becoming your apprentice could potentially be the best thing that could ever happen to me…or it could turn out to be the worst mistake I ever made. You're Chase Young: your motives are an enigma and if I were to agree to your offer, whatever that entails, I would have no idea what I would be setting myself up for. Judging from past experience, I could very easily get burned on this deal and considering where I am now, practically on top of the world, it's more of a sure thing for me to stay the course."

Chase was stunned to his core, though he did not show it on his face. Where had this well-reasoned, thoughtful, and cunning Jack Spicer come from? True, he had not seen the boy, nor had he interacted with Spicer, in five years but _this_... this was almost _magical_.

"I do not make offers to train students lightly," the warlord said coolly.

"Oh, yes, you do," countered Jack, looking at him with unflinching bravado. "You teased Ashley and you teased me with hints and promises of being your student when, in reality, you had no intention of training either one of us. We were merely means to an end that led to Omi's doorstep."

Chase clenched his teeth, fighting back a frustrated growl. Damn Spicer for bringing that up!

"I have no such agenda now," he said firmly. "I am, truly, seeking an apprentice to impart the ways of the Heylin to."

"I'm not saying you aren't," Jack conceded, "but I wouldn't have gotten very far in the world of business if I believed absolutely everything people told me, now, would I?"

He had to laugh; a short, but honest sound. "True enough, Spicer. Yet, I assure you, I aim to train an apprentice to the many intricacies of being Heylin."

Jack gave him a cool smile. "Let me guess: Ashley's the back-up if I say no?"

"You are saying 'no' now, and yet I am still here, trying to recruit you to the Heylin life you turned your back on. How _did_ that come about? The last I knew, you were boasting of making an armada of Jackbots, of creating a new superweapon that would surely bring us all running to kiss your lily-white backside."

"One day, I woke up and realized that I was being hopelessly naïve. I realized that I could never compete with the monks or anyone Heylin and I realized that I couldn't because I didn't know anything about combat. I knew _robots_ and even they were useless because there was always some martial arts move that could knock all their screw loose in one hit."

Jack paused, reaching out to take another sip of coffee. He seemed remarkably calm considering the topic was his complete and utter failure at being Heylin.

"I also realized that nobody was ever going to teach me," he smoothly continued, "because nobody cared enough to bother. Wuya, the monks, you- especially you – were perfectly content to mock my failings and dismiss me rather than give me the benefit of the doubt and actually help me. So, that day, instead of going down to my lab and building Jackbots, I started researching the family business; putting my mind to work in figuring out what works and what doesn't when running a company. Then, I made my own and I'm sure you can assume the rest: I grew up and here we are."

Chase nodded slowly. "True enough. I dismissed you as incompetent and destined to remain so. For the four years in which we interacted, you did not change. There wasn't even the slightest hint that you would do so or that you were interested in doing so. To find you like this... it is a surprise, but a pleasant one. However, it is this very change that makes you supremely suited to becoming my apprentice. Katnappé has changed physically, but otherwise...? She is doing the same thing; day-in, day-out--"

"Like you?" Jack interrupted, showing teeth in his smile.

The warlord remained silent for several moments, letting his displeasure be known in the coldness of his stare. Eventually, he continued.

"She has not changed beyond the superficial. _You_ have changed through and through. You have matured, gained wisdom. I sense that you are now receptive to learning yet more wisdom, even from others. That makes you the ideal candidate to become my apprentice."

"I don't doubt that I am and I'm sure you'd like me to just agree to your offer without debating the issue, but…" Jack trailed off, his point that he would _not_ just agree abundantly clear. "I want a bullet-point summary," he said, "of what you want from me and what I'll get out of this if I agree."

Chase unlaced his legs and sat up straighter, his spine rigid with indignation. "I beg your pardon? You are... assigning me a _task_ to earn your consideration?"

"You should feel lucky I'm not making you draft a contract for me to look over," Jack deadpanned. "That's my usual requirement before even _considering_ a business agreement. I'm not so stupid as to jump headfirst into partnerships without weighing the facts, first; not anymore."

The older man sat, sipped his tea, and considered the request. Proof, finally, that Spicer no longer acted rashly; that he thought things through. He _was_ worthy as a student. If his habit of inflicting harm on his allies at the first opportunity - rather than the fourth or fifth, after lulling them into a false sense of safety - was still there, it would be easy enough to train it out of him. To be honest, he'd feared there would be an astonishing amount of work, still, to put into making Spicer truly Heylin. Instead, he'd discovered that Jack had reduced the expected amount of work, adjusting accordingly with each sentence uttered.

Too, the boy - no, young _man_ - was now too seasoned a businessman to simply accept a spoken offer at face-value. He wanted a paper trail, and rightly so.

Coming to a decision, Chase set his now-empty cup of tea on Spicer's desk even as he nodded. "A written summary is a reasonable request. You shall have it by the end of the day tomorrow, if having it is what will prompt you to stop refusing me."

_"Possibly_ stop refusing you," Jack corrected. "I'm still not entirely sure I should be accepting offers from a man who liked to throw boulders at me and toss me to extinct reptilian apex predators for kicks."

"That was then, Spicer; this is now. Will you remain stubbornly set in the past? Or will you accept that even an immortal dragon-man such as myself can change once in a while?"

Jack grinned at the 'then and now' argument that'd been thrown back at him. "We'll see," he conceded. "I'll let you know by the end of the day tomorrow."

Chase stood, sensing the meeting was at an end. Spicer, too, stood; a businessman well-versed in etiquette. As the young man came around the desk to escort him for as far as Chase would go, the warlord flashed a wicked smile at Jack.

"There is one thing you should consider, Spicer," he murmured.

"Yeah? What's that?"

Faster than mortal thought could move, Chase had Jack pulled up against him. He locked one arm tightly around the younger man and his free hand held Jack's chin steady in a firm, but implacable grip.

"You are no longer distressingly young," the Heylin prince said softly. "You are a man, now, which leaves our potential relationship open to... so very _many_ possibilities."

He tilted his head just so; touched his lips to Jack's. With a deftness that came from centuries of experience, he coaxed a response from Jack with his mouth alone. First, an easing of the shock of being captured. Second, awareness that this was really happening. Third, the slight parting of Jack's lips on a soft sound of interest as the kiss deepened just enough to hint at being sexual.

When Chase let go and pulled away from the younger man, Jack was glassy-eyed and panting quickly, his hands curling and uncurling in clenching quickness.

"Think on that," Chase advised, "and how much _more_ it could be between us."

And then, he was gone; back to his mountain palace, eager in many ways he hadn't been in a very long time.

In his absence, Jack latched onto the front of his desk to keep his traitorous legs from buckling beneath him. Once he'd caught his breath, he straightened and smoothed his hair and his clothing (whether it'd actually been out of place or if it was merely a physical gesture of composing himself, it was uncertain).

Calmly, Jack strode to the door of his office, throwing it open and catching the eye of the nearest person.

"Melissa," he said to the quiet young lady that was his secretary, "do you think you can keep things running for the rest of the day?"

"Uh, I, y-yes, Mr. Spicer," she sputtered in reply, "but I thought you were going to stay and work…?"

"I was," Jack told her, shutting the door behind him and beginning to walk towards the elevator, "but between you and me, I _really_ need this day off."

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

Well into the next day, after a good night's sleep and a coffee-and-bacon-heavy breakfast, Jack happily returned to work.

As it turned out, Melissa had been perfectly capable of handling the simple work involved in holding down what was essentially the most idiot-proof fort in the world. In fact, the moment Jack had stepped out of the elevator and approached his office, the secretary had greeted him with a description of how incompetent Mr. Miller had been not to be able to handle such a light workload with so many processes taken care of by machines and how she completely supported him in his decision to fire the man as opposed to her usual, 'good morning, Mr. Spicer.'

This, of course, had led to Jack inquiring as to whether the young lady would like a promotion and Spicer Tech very quickly had a new VP.

Throughout the work day, however, the president of the company was constantly thinking; constantly alert.

On the one hand, there was the matter of considering the events of the day previous, taking in his childhood idol's declarations of sincerity and the promises of _more_ that he'd hoped for since first coming into awareness of the fact that he had a sex-drive.

Then, on the other hand, there was the constant awareness, looking up from his work every few moments expecting Chase to be standing there demanding an answer from him.

Jack was confident that he could give one. Those in his line of work didn't last very long without an aptitude for short-notice decisions.

It was whether or not that answer would be _right_ that had his mind occupied with a great deal of reminiscence and thinking; making it little wonder that the young genius got very little substantial work done.

A part of Jack was screaming at him, practically shrieking in horror that he was even _considering_ turning down such an offer. This was a dream come true, it pointed out: _the_ Chase Young wants you as an apprentice and good god, he _kissed_ you! Why are you not on your knees kissing his feet and whatever else he wants you to put your mouth on?!

But, then, there was the other part that had come to be alongside his maturity, the one keeping the wildly hysteric side in check. It tactfully reminded him the many, many times Chase had taken advantage of his willingness to prostrate himself before the dragonlord and outright used him for his own benefit.

There was no anger in the recollection of these times. Rather, Jack remembered being Chase's pawn with a neutral factuality: Chase was a centuries-old beast of cold, calculating evil and Jack had been a too-trusting preteen with very little life experience that was completely smitten with him.

In retrospect, it was supremely obvious that he would have been used as little more than a means to an end.

Even so, it didn't make Jack all that eager to go trusting the Heylin warlord again, no matter how truthful his insistences of sincerity sounded. He would need a written agenda and a list of demands to consider before the _possibility_ of agreeing to Chase's offer even made it onto his list of options.

It would be the very end of the work day when that written communiqué would come, past the point when Jack had already worked himself up into an impatient anxiety.

The calm, logical part of his brain suggested it was probably so long in coming out of Chase's desire to mess with him for daring to give him a homework assignment.

Of course, its arrival had been flairless, but somehow managed to be damnably classy. One moment, Jack's fingers were tensely tapping upon his desk, and the very next, the taps were muffled by an envelope that'd magically found its way beneath his hand.

There was no hesitation for the world's youngest and most brilliant CEO as he tore the envelope open, removing the contents and scanning it thoroughly.

As he had specified, the list was in bullet-point format, putting things in simple, straightforward terms Jack could understand.

'Expectations' was written in an elegant script at the top of the page, looking just as refined and beautiful as the man who'd written it.

First and foremost was 'obedience.' This, of course, had been a given for an apprentice of any kind and so Jack was not surprised to see it.

Obedience…likely would've been easier had this opportunity come about when he was younger and less independent. Now, as self-sufficient as he'd become, Jack knew that if he did take this offer, there would be times when his will would clash with Chase's and there would be problems because of it.

However, he also knew that he was not incapable of learning. Put in a position where submission meant eventual self-betterment, Jack was certain that he could come to accept Chase's rule completely in a matter of months, if not weeks.

Obedience, he could handle.

Next on the list was 'respect' and Jack couldn't help his chuckle at the sight of it.

Was Chase really so blind as to assume he didn't have that already? Because he certainly did.

The dragonlord could quite literally spit in Jack's face, break every bone in his body, and write him a twenty-five page letter about what a useless waste of space he considered him to be and Jack could _hate_ him with everything he had.

The _respect,_ though…the high regard he held the Heylin man in simply for everything he had accomplished and everything he was… Jack sincerely doubted Chase's ability to _ever_ invalidate that.

So, respect was already taken care of.

Following that was 'trust' and Jack grimaced.

That could be a tough one. Again, this was something that would have been leagues easier when he was a boy who knew absolutely nothing but that Chase was _awesome_ and he could _always_ be trusted.

Jack had grown up and it had come to his attention that yes, Chase was plenty awesome, but he could most definitely _not_ always be trusted. He was Heylin for god's sakes! He couldn't be expected to play by Xiaolin rules unless you wanted to be severely disappointed however many days, weeks, or years down the line when the warlord took advantage of your blind trust and betrayed you at his own convenience.

But…if Chase had been telling the truth…_if_ he had been telling the truth, he legitimately wanted to take on an apprentice in order to bolster the Heylin forces. It would be counterintuitive for him to betray that apprentice at any point. Besides that, it didn't really make sense for Chase to waste his own time and effort in trying to obtain Jack as an apprentice and actually go to the trouble of complying with this request to write things down just for some elaborate, no-longer-timely prank for being such a screw-up as a kid.

Trust…it could take a little while for it to be a _complete_ thing, and it would definitely be cautious at first, but Jack could trust Chase if he wasn't given any reasons _not_ to.

'Dedication to improvement' was what Chase had seen fit to ask next.

At this Jack nodded. That was a perfectly understandable request for a student from a teacher, one that would not be a problem. If Jack did this, it would be out of a genuine desire to learn amongst whatever other motivations this piece of paper could give him.

Following this expectation, there was only one more thing written, and Chase was asking that Jack, 'live within my keep.'

The young man chuckled lightly. Living smack dab in the middle of (The Land of) Nowhere would certainly make the daily commute to work a bit difficult, but to be completely honest, Jack was a CEO: there was very little work for him do to that couldn't be done via phone, e-mails, and even video-conferences. It was only because Miller had failed so spectacularly at maintaining order that he had even _had_ to come in at all yesterday.

Well…either way, he could still run his company living with Chase, and there wasn't anything he absolutely _needed_ access to at his home that he couldn't bring to Chase's.

This was an acceptable request.

Alright. So, Chase's expectations of him so far were perfectly reasonable. As a Heylin master to a potential Heylin apprentice, everything he was asking of Jack was fairly standard.

There was the distinct possibility that this offer was authentic.

However, Jack dared not let himself get too hopeful, not before he'd looked everything over.

On the other half of the paper, there was another column, this one labeled, 'Benefits.'

'Learn to be _truly_ evil' was the first thing Chase claimed he would get out of this deal.

Jack couldn't help the grin that quirked his lips at the phrasing of that. Chase had said he would learn to be _true_ evil as opposed to just learning to be evil. It was clear that he acknowledged that Jack already _was_ evil; _business_ evil, but evil nonetheless. Chase's intention was to refine that business evil into the type of pure, Heylin evil that he was.

And to Jack, that sounded quite alright.

The next bullet point declared that Jack would, 'learn to fight,' one could only assume on the level of the Xiaolin monks _minimum._ Still having no aptitude for combat, the genius could not help but be a little wary of this one.

His body was regrettably…delicate. He bruised easily and near-instantly and he had always been prone to pulled muscles and dislocations. Learning martial arts from Chase Young, even at his most gentle, would surely result in plenty of bruises, sprains, and injuries before he even _learned_ anything.

But…he _would_ learn eventually. There would be pain and it would be difficult, but good would come from it and Jack might actually be able to compete with the now-young adults that had thoroughly trounced him as a youth.

Despite leaving his old life and vowing never to return, Jack had had many, many, _many_ revenge fantasies he'd been dying to act out and this could certainly help with that.

Too, he knew several techniques for self-defense, now, and so while he would still definitely get hurt in learning to fight, he wasn't going in completely blind; could probably prevent the very worst of the injuries that would come.

All in all, learning how to handle himself in combat was a definite want.

Continuing to read, Jack saw that Chase next promised him an opportunity to 'learn magic,' and one eyebrow shot up in curiosity.

Magic could definitely be interesting, he decided after only a moment of thought. Even if Chase were to teach him only low-level magic, like teleportation and how to use darkness like a cloak to hide himself, that would be enough for him. Jack honestly could care less if he ever learned the serious stuff, like element manipulation, if he could goddamn _teleport._

So, it was decided that magic was cool and one of several mounting good reasons for Jack to take this offer.

Had Jack been a bit younger upon reading the next item in the itinerary, he most certainly would've blushed, for Chase declared that in becoming his apprentice, he would win, 'a place by my side: in peace, in battle, and in bed.'

As it was, Jack viewed it with calm and casual judgment. He couldn't, of course, lie to himself and so knew he wanted that place being offered.

Chase Young was an amazing man in many different ways; the main reason why Jack had been so _drawn_ to him when he was younger. He was intriguing, enigmatic, and positively gorgeous to look at.

Really, it was no wonder that Jack, then and now, considered a place beside him deeply honoring.

Well, that, and the idea of spending a night in Chase's bed excited Jack on so subconscious _and_ conscious a level that he was struggling to keep his focus on the piece of paper rather than simply tossing it aside and doing something extremely office-inappropriate.

Thankfully, his concentration didn't have to last much longer, for Chase had stayed true to the idea of a bullet-point list and kept things simple: there was only one more bullet-point left.

According to Chase, the final benefit of becoming his apprentice was, 'eternal youth.'

For several long, long moments, Jack gaped at the piece of paper, entirely dumbfounded.

The logical part of him was trying to explain how this made perfect sense: Chase possessed eternal youth and so if he were to take on a student, that student would need to possess it, too. Besides that, his entire aim in taking an apprentice had been to add to the Heylin side's strength and it would be pointless to train someone to do that if they were just going to die and put Chase right back where he'd started, apprenticeless.

Unfortunately, this logical part was drowned out almost completely by a resurgence of the Chase-adoring part that was on the verge of shrieking wildly in shock and excitement: Chase was offering him _immortality!_ He wanted him around _forever!_ There was no _way_ this could be a trick!

After a few moments of consideration, Jack realized that that was actually a valid point. In the past, Chase had thrown out offers of apprenticeship easily with little to no intention of following through on them and this could easily have been one of those times.

However, Chase did _not_ make offers of _eternal youth_ lightly. This was a completely serious, completely legitimate offer of apprenticeship if Chase was going so far as to present immortality.

Jack again glanced at the sheet of paper in his hand and noticed a block of text at the bottom.

_Spicer,_ it read, _since I realize that your line of work affords you some level of comfort with blatantly stated promises in writing, allow me to assure that you will not get 'burned' on this deal. I, Chase Young, hereby swear to uphold all of the above promises should you agree to become my apprentice and I shall never ask more of you than what has been outlined above. Once consented to, this agreement cannot be terminated either by myself or by you: it will be permanent and therefore it is in our best interests that you decide upon this with the utmost certainty. I await your response, Jack._

And beneath that was the warlord's signature as well as the date, thus validating the document in a way that Jack felt familiarly confident with.

Jack proceeded to spend several long moments looking the paper over and considering the offer thoroughly. He knew he had plenty of time to think it over, for he had deduced that Chase would not be coming to him in search of a reply.

Chase had done his fair share of coaxing Jack to become his apprentice: now, it was up to Jack to take the initiative if he truly wanted this.

A hand scrubbed vigorously at his face before running through his hair and Jack sighed. He had made big decisions before, but _this_ was a doozy: Chase Young's _apprentice,_ possibly even his _lover!_

Even so…he was fairly sure he had an answer.

Jack stood from his desk and folded the piece of paper, tucking it neatly into the pocket of his suit jacket. His computer was shut down and the lights were flicked off prior to exiting his office entirely, bidding Melissa a good night before heading home.

He had some preparation to do.

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

Chase watched with the hint of a smile on his face as a pair of black boots touched down onto the ledge of his mountain just as the sun was beginning to set.

"Hello, Jack," he pleasantly greeted. "How long has it been since you've used that contraption?"

Jack tossed a half-glance over his shoulder, shrugging at the slightly-awkward weight of his helipack. "Awhile," he admitted, "but it's just like riding a bike except without the bike and the ground is miles beneath you instead of just a few feet."

Chase laughed. "I'll take your word for it. You certainly look nice."

The young CEO looked absolutely dashing in a suit and tie, but his choice in casual clothing had come a long way from the past days of cheap goth fashion. Jack was currently dressed in a black leather jacket that hugged his torso in a surprisingly sexy way. A simple pair of black slacks and durable-looking boots completed the outfit and perhaps for old times' sake, the familiar red and yellow goggles had been slung around his slender neck.

"Thanks," Jack grinned. "I'd say the same of you, but you must know that already."

Chase's smile broadened. Normally in such a situation as this, he would be dreadfully impatient, side-stepping all of this banter and _demanding_ to know what had been decided regarding his offer. Instead, he was calm and perfectly collected.

It likely had something to do with the fact that he had a pretty clear idea of Jack's decision thanks to the sleek and shiny machines hovering just behind their creator, several of them carrying bags of belongings.

"So…" he began, "is it safe to assume you've made your decision?"

"More than safe," Jack assured. "I've decided."

"Share that decision with me."

Jack frowned. "You don't already know?"

"Oh, I have a good idea," Chase corrected. "I would like to hear it from you, anyways."

"I accept," Jack said immediately. "I agree to becoming your apprentice and all that entails."

Chase smirked in response, stepping forward . "And this is not too much of a risky investment for you, Mr. Spicer?"

Jack took an identical step forward. "I trust that the payoff will be worth it in the end. I trust _you._"

That sentence pleased Chase immeasurably and he held out his hand for Jack to take it. Behind them, the sky grew darker as the sun began to well and truly slip beneath the horizon. "I won't disappoint you…apprentice."

Jack smirked, placing his hand in Chase's. "I'm certain you won't…master."

Daylight at last gave up its struggle and night took hold, undoubtedly a good omen for the partnership that had been forged.

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

**A/N: Lately, it seems my best ideas come to me when I'm half-asleep. Most of this was written during the time of night when it's technically not night anymore, but the sun is hours from coming up and I _definitely_ should have been asleep.**

**Anyways, not much to say about this save a quick thanks to Silvarbelle again for A) helping to beta this and B) for working me through Chase's part when I got stuck.**

**Thanks for reading, everybody, and I hope you liked the fic! :D**


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